


Safety Rope

by RussianWitch



Series: Kinktober2018 [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Don't copy to another site, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Mirror Sex, Verbal Humiliation, не копировать
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-31 00:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: Day 31 mix and match





	Safety Rope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeoOtherLands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoOtherLands/gifts).



> not beta'd

Every time he slumps against the mirror, and his breath fogs the glass he sees the word "slut" forming out of the corner of his eye and pulls back, impaling himself harder on the cock rooting into him. 

Last time, it was "killer," the time before that "failure," by comparison, "slut" isn't that bad, but it still twists his gut and makes him want to— 

"Eyes open," is growled in his ear. 

Dean gasps for breath and does as ordered, trying very hard not to actually  _ see _ . 

He concentrates on  _ feeling _ instead: the drag of the fat dick inside of him, on his calves starting to protest because he's forced on his toes with every thrust, and how hot the mirror's surface is becoming against his forehead.  

"Stubborn, aren't ya?" His assailant mutters against the back of Dean's neck, teeth sinking into the scruff a little too sharp to be quite human, but not quite sharp enough to do anything but cause him to feel guilty all over again. 

Benny withdraws, leaving Dean bereft as he's pushed to his knees. 

The lower part of the glass is still cold enough to make him squirm when Dean is pushed against it, his nipples aching from the too loose hemp rope harness dragging across them with his every move, with every twist of Benny's fist clutching the ropes crisscrossing his back. 

By the time they are done, he's going to be a mess, Dean knows. 

It will be long sleeved shirts and changing in the shower for weeks or facing questions he doesn't have answers to.  

"Give yourself a little kiss, sweetheart," the vampire orders cupping the back of Dean's head. Benny can crush his skull by squeezing, all he does is dig the nail of his thumb into the soft spot at the nape of Dean's neck. 

"Come on, chéris," Benny coaches. 

Dean's breath is fogging up the glass that's not as smooth as he kind of expected against his lips. 

"Come on!" Benny's hand lands on Dean's ass, makes him seize up, and push out Benny's first load. Cold, dead vampire come dribbling out of his ass, running down to dry on the back of his balls.  

A sob escapes him.

His skin is too hot, too tight, he feels like any moment now, he's going to explode with the humiliation of—his tongue trembles, Dean didn't even know that could happen, as he sticks it out,  

The glass is cold and slick on his tongue. 

"That's it," Benny coos, kneeling behind Dean. 

His body is hot on Dean's back, hairy belly and thighs scratching at the bruised skin of Dean's thighs and ass. He's heavy, and solid pressing Dean into the glass.  

"Now give yourself a nice, sloppy kiss."  

Benny's heavy dick taps Dean's balls, pokes at his perineum smearing cold pre-come there and making Dean break out in goosebumps as licks at the glass, drool dribbling down his chin and smearing his cheeks. 

He's a mess, but his dick—his damn dick is an iron bar, hard again already, painfully hard. 

Dean screams when Benny's hand closes around it. 

It's too sensitive to touch, his dick is, definitely too raw to be jerked off. Benny isn't gentle about it either, hard tugs that make Dean's eyes water and buck back against Benny to get away from the painful touch even as it fans the fire deep inside him.  

"Such a pretty slut," Benny purrs against the nape of Benny's neck his teeth scraping Dean's skin where it's bound to be seen.  

"Say it!" The vampire hisses and Dean feels himself leak despite the rough handling. 

The 'no' stalls in his throat, as much as he wants to say it, but Dean still manages to shake his head knocking his forehead against the glass.  

Benny sighs, sounding put-upon and disappointed, nothing Dean hasn't gotten used to and pulls away leaving him bereft shivering against the cold glass. 

He wonders if they are done now.

Dean wouldn't be surprised in the least.

At least he's going to have the welts with him for the next couple of weeks, that counts for something—if Benny's hand on his dick had been torture then Benny's hand wrapped in hemp rope rivals the torment he'd suffered in hell, or so it seemed.  

The rope feels like sandpaper on his dick, like Benny's scraping a layer of skin off with every stroke, pinning him to the mirror with his bulk when Dean tries to struggle free. 

He's going to be useless, Dean thinks distantly, bruised to hell and back, dick raw—he isn't sure he'll be able to  _ walk _ when Benny is done with him. 

It hurt, it hurts, it hurts and he's—caught, trapped, pinned down and held, Benny wrapped around him, surrounding him, strumming the ropes until it is all too much. 

_ Pretty _ , Dean thinks looking down, watching Benny pulling him into his lap, settling Dean's limp body onto his dick.  

He moans the sound dull like the world has had the sound turned down.

Benny laughs, his whole body shaking, fucking deeper into the body that is Dean most of the time. He flicks the nail of his thumb at the underside of Dean's dick, and the sharp, clean pain of it sends Dean higher.  

From his new perspective, he can get a proper look at the harness Benny has weaved around his torso, the way the pale rope is framed by red, raw skin. 

His dick is going to be red and raw too, Dean kind of wishes Benny would wrap the scratchy rope around it, maybe while he's still soft and fuck him again, fuck him hard until he comes screaming in agony.  

His head falls back onto Benny's shoulder, drool dripping from the corner of his slack mouth. 

"What are you?" Benny asks, his beard scratching Dean's ear. 

"Pretty slut," rolls off his tongue, a faint feeling of humiliation warm like a soft blanket that makes him squirm in pleasure this time, rocking himself on Benny's dick making the vampire suck in an actual breath. 

"Good boy," Benny praises, "good slut," his beard scrapes Dean's shoulder, another layer of sensation that pushes him higher into the stratosphere.  

The hemp-wrapped hand tightens on his dick, squeezes to the rhythm of his heartbeat pulses of pain running through his body and all he can do is moan, animal sounds of pain and need, until the dam bursts and he spills making a mess of the mirror and Benny's hand. 

Benny keeps stroking, slow and steady torturous in its intensity. 

The last of the fight seeps out of Dean until he's hanging limply against Benny's chest the ropes keeping him from flying apart completely as Benny forces orgasm after painful orgasm out of him. 

Only then does he gets propped up against the mirror again, for Benny to use to get off.

Getting fucked hurts too, contrasting and echoing the pain in Dean's dick. Benny isn't careless, but he's more concerned with his pleasure than Dean's comfort as Dean sobs quietly against the glass while getting used like a toy, like a random hole in the wall of a toilet stall at a truck stop, like a slut in the back alley of a grubby bar.

He feels hollow, transparent like an empty glass. 

The soft whine that escapes Benny as he comes, the sound filling Dean up.  The way the vampire twists the ropes making them dig all over as he mouths at Dean's neck with human-blunt teeth keeps him from flying apart into a million pieces.

He floats away to Benny gasping what a good slut he is, how tight and hot, each word a new caress a new and cherished welt on his skin. 

The world fades into a gray haze, a nicer kind of Purgatory where Dean needs to do nothing, needs to be nothing held safe and secure in Benny's arms and the biting ropes.  

He only comes back when the ropes start to disappear, the pressure of them every time he shifts easing disconcertingly.  

"Sheee, brother," Benny murmurs, his arms caging Dean against his chest, "can't let you sleep all tussled up like that, ain't safe."  

He wants to protest that it is, with Benny there, and what could happen anyway? But his tongue is thick and his jaw too loose, all he can do is whine in protest. 

"Don't fuss,  chéris ," Benny admonishes pinching Dean's nipple until the small pain distracts him, "I'll take care of you, don't I always?"  

Dean is cleaned, and something cold and gooey is rubbed into some of the welts, left terrifyingly, uncomfortably free—His hands are folded together, and Benny wraps something soft and slick around his wrists over and over again fucking the ends of the ribbon under the wrapping instead of tying it off. 

"If you hold still, it won't unwrap," he tells Dean, repeating the process on Dean's ankles. 

It isn't what he wants, there is no burn, there isn't enough rope, but it's something, it's more than he usually has, and when Benny settles down behind him pulling a heavy blanket over them and slipping an arm around Dean's waist, it's enough.   


End file.
